The night stretched on like a suffocating blanket, heavy and restless. Aria couldn't bring herself to leave the corridor, even though every part of her screamed to run. The door—the one that had opened to pure darkness—remained ajar, spilling nothing but silence. Yet, it felt louder than anything she had ever known.
Her fingers twitched at her side as she leaned against the wall, trying to steady her breath. The house wasn't just watching anymore—it was waiting. A low creak echoed from somewhere above, the sound of weight shifting on old wood, though she knew no one should be there.
Pari's name whispered in her mind again, pulling her back to the attic, to the faint glow inside that small box. What was hidden there? And why did it feel like everything—the doors, the whispers, the shadows—was circling back to that attic?
Her pulse quickened as a sudden draft blew through the hallway, rattling the picture frames. One of them fell, crashing onto the floor. The glass splintered, scattering sharp shards across the floorboards. But Aria didn't flinch at the sound—her eyes were fixed on the photograph inside the frame.
It wasn't her family.
It was her.
Standing beside Pari.
And behind them… a figure blurred in black.
***
The silence pressed against Aria's chest like an invisible weight. Every step forward felt uncertain, the air heavy with questions she was too afraid to ask. Shadows stretched long in every direction, yet none of them could drown the quiet fire inside her.
Her heart whispered doubts—turn back, it's safer there—but her soul pushed her forward. Fear had always followed her, but tonight she realized it was not her enemy. Fear was proof that she was alive, that she was still fighting.
She paused, eyes tracing the endless dark around her. For so long she had begged the night to break, to show her a single spark of light. But now… she understood. The darkness was not her prison. It was her teacher.
Maybe I was never meant to wait for light, she thought. Maybe I was meant to become it.
With trembling hands, she pressed her palms together, not in surrender, but in strength. The world around her did not change—the path was still uncertain, the silence still heavy—but Aria did. And that was enough.